That Lake Smell
Apr 3rd, 2007 by Cory
We had an unexpected rain storm this evening in Baltimore. A rain shower is usually great for washing away the dirt and grime and leaving everything fresh and clean. That’s not exactly the feeling I got as I rolled the trash bin out into the alley tonight. I didn’t get “fresh and clean” so much as what I can only describe as “that lake smell.” Okay, maybe this is a Texas/Southern thing, but there are some things that just smell like a lake. It’s a strange blend of large amounts of fresh water and wet rotting organic matter. So why would our alley have lake smell after a cleansing rain shower you ask? Garbage. Trash. Refuse. Litter. Rubbish.
You see, our neighbors next door have this delightful habit of just putting their garbage out in thin, loosely-tied plastic bags.


Based on my painstaking observations, it takes exactly 10.5 seconds for the rats to chew holes in the bags, pull out the goodies they want, and leave a trail of garbage in their wake. I’ve found the strewn garbage to be extremely useful for running over with my car, slipping on when it ices, providing seeds for wild onions mixed in with the grass, and giving our backyard and common areas an overall “tidy” look. I keeping meaning to talk to the neighbors about this habit, and ask them nicely to keep their garbage in one of the three trash cans in their backyard, and just roll it out to the alley on trash days. But I haven’t. Okay, so I’m putting it off. Truth is, they scare me a bit. The house is inhabited by a strange lady who is either in her late 50s and just looks terrible for her age or in her late 80s and just looks terrible for her age. She shares the house with her 35-year old “boyfriend” [shudder], and a boarder that probably lists his occupation as “drifter/molester.” I can’t tell if the old lady is mentally challenged or just stays drunk 105% of the time…. I’m leaning towards the former. She has a certain “Lennie” (Of Mice and Men) ambience about her….Tell me about them rabbits again, George. So, I’m reluctant to say anything. I’m afraid that during the course of the conversation, she’ll become enamored with my hair, ask to touch it, and then strangle me when I try to pull away.
I’m sure I’ll get used to the garbage. Summer is right around the corner. Warm rotting organic matter should be much more pleasant than frozen rotting organic matter.
Charmed.













